Double Daddy Trouble

One

My alarm sounded precisely at five a.m. I didn’t need it to wake me; I was already dressed and sitting on the edge of my perfectly made bed. I told myself that I still wasn’t used to the time change. Syria was seven hours ahead of Sweet Haven, Georgia.

The doctor training in me knew that three weeks was more than ample amount of time for my body to readjust to the time difference. The fact that I was still wide away at three a.m. every morning had nothing to do with the time change and everything to do with my inability to adjust back to civilian life.

Sometimes I hated the fact that I was a doctor. I would have much rather just lived in the blissful ignorance that most of my fellow comrades had when returning from active duty. At least they could believe the lies they told themselves. I, however, knew that my inability to adds had nothing to do with time change or readjustment buffers and everything to do with what I had seen over there.

I realized I hadn’t moved in some time when I stood, muscles stiff, and shut off the alarm. I turned and smoothed the wrinkles my body had made on the bed before silently walking out of my bedroom.

The townhouse was small and barely furnished. It reminded me more of the container barracks I lived in for the majority of the last six years. It made it feel like home. I walked silently down the darkened hall and to the small kitchen. I didn’t need lights on to know where I was going. A quick and efficient breakfast left me sitting on the lone chair in my living room while I waited for time to pass again.

Time was now my enemy. I never seemed to have enough things to fill it. When I kept busy, I was okay, but with significant gaps of empty time like this, all I had left to do was think on my past. Most of the time it was in longing for the Navy Seal brothers I had made. Wondering what they were doing now. But in rare instances, it was reliving memories I would much rather forget.

Sure I had been retired for medical reasons, but it still made me feel like a pussy. I was here living the soft civilian life while my brothers were still out there putting their lives on the line. I rubbed my thigh where the shrapnel had ripped through my flesh and did my best to ignore the constant ringing always at the back of my eardrums.

Finally, I figured I waited long enough and headed out the door to my first day at my new job. I allowed the medical retirement from my SEAL team for two reasons. One, I wasn't at all sure if fighting it would have even made a difference in the end. Two, because my father was begging me to come and take over his practice so that he could retire himself.

Today marked day one of our six-month transition into his retirement. He deserved it; I would give him that. I had always planned to take over the business one day, anyway. Joining the Navy was just a way to put my skills to some good use before having to settle down to this quiet town.

I had never expected to love the military so much. If I had it my way, I would have stayed in until the day I died. Of course, life expectancy as a SEAL was short lived. I didn’t care much about that. I was making a difference where it mattered.

Now I would be handing out cold medicine for runny noses and painkillers to people who couldn’t hack simple aches. It was drudgery going back to the life I had always planned to have after experiencing something far superior.

I walked through the small office doors listening to the little chime of bells that automatically sounded. It was like blasting back into my childhood. I hadn’t entered the offices since coming back from overseas, and I was not surprised to

see it exactly how I remembered it.

“Good morning, Hawk,” Mrs. Jennings said from the receptionist counter.

I gave her a weak smile in return. Mrs. Jennings had been just as much of a fixture to this office as the worn out chair and dated magazines. I reached into her candy bowl and pulled out a jolly rancher.

When my mother lost her battle with breast cancer, Mrs. Jennings had stepped up to take her place. Every day from the time I was nine, I came here after school and sat in this old waiting area with her to do my homework while Dad saw to his patients.

“A little early for sweets,” Mrs. Jennings said in a motherly fashion with her darken brow raised.

I gave her that innocent boy smile she never could say no to.

“Come on Mrs. J, just trying to cut my nerves a little.”

“What nerves, boy?” She asked in her normal southern sassy tone. “You have been practically raised in this office.”

“I guess just the fact of coming back to real life,” I said softly.

I didn’t share my concerns or struggles with many. Mrs. Jennings made that short list.

“Honey,” she said reaching out and taking my hand. I loved the feel of her motherly touch. She may have been as dark skinned as I was light, but she was a mother to me through and through. “you are gonna to be just fine. Just keep breathing, and it will all come back to you.”

I gave her a soft smile and kissed the back of her hand. She giggled at my debonair action and waved me off.

“Go on now, you tease. Your father is already waiting for you in the back room.”

I gave her one last wink before slipping the hard candy into my mouth. I liked to have something to concentrate on, to take my mind off the ringing.

Sure enough, there was my father back in his office stacked high with files. He was the worst when it came to organization. It made me cringe a little. Step one would be computerizing everything and lighting every single one of these stacks on fire.

“Oh there you are,” he said not looking up from his work.

I noticed that his hand shook a little as he wrote. It was a hereditary tremor he was born with, but it had gotten significantly worse as he aged. Between that and the fact that I was beginning to see early signs of dementia, it was time for him to take a break from work.